


Pants

by Satan (CherryBones)



Series: The Land of the LSPD [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Gen, I had fun writing this, basically it's just a fun little one-shot insight into post-Clean Hands LSPD boys, there's gonna be more of this but idk if it'll just be a series or just chapters in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBones/pseuds/Satan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luna and Demarais need to stop taking out their boredom on the others in their little group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pants

Farmahini really hates his job and anyone who tells you otherwise is a  _fucking liar_. He takes comfort in this hate as he pulls his pants back up and glares at the quickly retreating back of Luna, cursing angrily. He also takes a moment to thank the stars above that he was wearing a plain pair of black boxers that day because he really doesn’t need any added embarrassment of joke boxers or something equally ridiculous.

Luna is still giggling by the time he makes it to their work space, Demarais nowhere to be seen. It’s been awhile since they’ve worked in that sorry excuse for a task force room, Burns having given them a cluster of desks in a considerably larger room now that they weren’t technically the ‘Fake AH Crew Taskforce’ anymore.

And crooked. That was another reason probably. Burns had a weird sense of humor.

He feels proud of himself when he only boots Luna, and Luna’s chair, into his cluttered desk as he passes instead of something more potentially harming. Luna curses, the laughter stopping but looking no less unrepentant as he flashes a broad grin at him. He drops into his own chair, rolling his eyes as he turns to his work. They’re looking into another crew at the moment, both for the LSPD and for the Fake AH Crew. A smaller group, a break-off from a larger crew in a different city, similar to the Fake AH Crew when Ramsey first got his start in Los Santos. They weren’t doing too much, just causing some chaos with no real purpose, but they were talented and interested eyes had been laid on them. He’s drawn from his thoughts when Demarais comes crashing back into the room, his eyes drawn from the pictures of the seven main members of the new crew by the man as he dives behind Luna, laughing his ass off. They find out why he’s laughing so hard when Gibson comes charging into the room, still in the process of redoing his buckle.

“I’m gonna kill you Demarais!”

The object of his rage squeaked, hiding a little more behind Luna, the occasional giggle still busting out from him as the man in the chair before him tried to defend him.

“C’mon Gibson, you never wear a shirt anyways. Why’s losing your pants so bad?”

“Shut the fuck up Luna.”

“I’m just saying.”

Farmahini rolls his eyes, turning away from the scene again and leaving the two partners in pantsing crime to their own devices. They’d be fine. Gibson may look dangerous, but he knows that the man has zero intention of actually hurting either of the two, no matter how aggravated they may make him.

Sure enough, Gibson soon just lets out a long-suffering sigh and throws himself onto the couch shoved into the corner of the room. Marquis enters the room soon after and decides against questioning it. Marquis is smart, Farmahini decides. He’s also extremely unlucky because now he’s the only one who hasn’t gotten pantsed by the dynamic duo still lounging around Luna’s desk and both of them are examining him with twisted glee that he has yet to pick up on. He can hear Gibson snort softly from behind him and a second later his phone buzzes beside his work with a text from him, giving a twenty dollar bet of five minutes before they do something. He texts back with a smile and gives them until Marquis leaves the room. He winds up winning the bet. Gibson drops the bill on his desk when he finally gets up to go to his own, grumbling playfully. Farmahini feels that stupid fond smile tug on his mouth yet again as he hears shouting and running and laughter outside the door.

Okay, so maybe he was the fucking liar when he said he hated his job.


End file.
